


Your Lucky Charm

by the_many_splendored



Series: House of Barber [2]
Category: Marriage Story (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Renaissance, F/M, Family Feels, Happy Ending, Medieval Battle, Medieval Pregnancy Tests, Mention of urine, Pregnancy, Royalty, Second marriage, Trying For A Baby, Widowed Charlie, duels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27689099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_many_splendored/pseuds/the_many_splendored
Summary: Reader may be pregnant with her and Charlie's first child - but the danger from the rebellion is still close by.
Relationships: Charlie Barber/Reader, Charlie Barber/You
Series: House of Barber [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2001781
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Your Lucky Charm

**_July 15, 1538_ **

Has it truly only been two months that you and your Charlie have been married? You’re still learning about the man you love every day, but at the same time, there’s a comfort in your marriage that makes it seem like you’ve known each other forever. It helps that Henry took to the news of the marriage very well, and he’s already calling you Mother (you don’t expect him to call you Mama; that was his nickname for the woman who bore him).

If you’re being honest with yourself, your husband making love to you at least three times a week since the wedding doesn’t hurt either. You never knew arousal could be such a primal need before you were married, but now you can’t get enough of your king. There are practical reasons as well – even knowing that your marriage is sealed in the eyes of God, a child to bless the union would only further your legitimacy as the new queen. The King marrying a commoner isn’t necessarily a scandal, but you’re not naïve enough to think that no one has objected to how you and Charlie got together. Perhaps it’s that slight anxiety that kept you from noticing until today – you haven’t had your courses in about six weeks. You’ve heard of stress causing delays before, but it’s never been a problem you had. Could this be the sign you’re waiting for?

Even though you’re not expected on active duty anymore, you like to review the Guard with Hugh each morning, and after the men have finished their exercises and are dismissed, you pull Hugh aside. “Hugh, I’m telling you this because I need your wife’s expertise, but I need both of you to keep it in strictest confidence. There is a possibility that I may be with child, but I don’t wish to tell the king until I’m more sure. Can you have Lucille come to my chambers as soon as possible?”

“Of course, Majesty – and for both his sake and yours, I hope it _is_ joyful news.” Hugh’s smile is small, but genuine, and he’s prompt, bringing Lucille to you within the hour. In her bag of “tricks”, she has several items for testing pregnancy that you recognize – a very clean needle, a flask of wine and a goblet to pour it into, and a basin to collect your urine. When he sees the basin, Hugh discreetly excuses himself.

\--

When Lucille informs him that it’s okay to return, Hugh comes back to your chamber – and sees you looking simultaneously happy and stunned. “Good news?” he asks delicately.

You nod slowly, but you can’t find your words, so Lucille speaks for you. “Her Majesty’s results were positive on both tests, which makes me confident that she’s expecting a little one.” She squeezes your hand for comfort, and you offer her a tired smile. “As such, I’m recommending that you rest as much you can; serious exhaustion and stomach issues will be coming soon.”

“We’ll of course maintain the discretion you asked for,” Hugh assures you. “Will you tell His Majesty soon?”

Now you’re finally able to find your words. “I will…but not today.” Lucille looks slightly concerned, and you clarify, “He’ll be thrilled when I tell him, but I know he’s been concerned about how tensions are rising throughout the kingdom. If I can tell him when we have a little bit of peace, I think that would be best.”

\--

You find very quickly that Lucille wasn’t exaggerating about the exhaustion at least. You usually like to read for about an hour with Henry after dinner, but even he can see your eyes blinking heavily as you try to focus on your manuscript. When he gently asks if you can tuck him in early, you agree, and after seeing him settled, you return to your and Charlie’s room, and you’re asleep almost before you can blow out the candle you were reading with.

Charlie returns an hour later, and while it pains him that he couldn’t spend much time with you today, seeing you comfortably sleeping propped up on your pillows warms his heart. That said, he can’t shake a strange feeling that something about you looks different…

**_July 16, 1538_ **

The pounding on the door of the royal suite is loud enough to rouse the dead, and as you and Charlie struggle to wake up, you look outside – the sun has barely risen. What could possibly be so urgent? As you pull a robe on over your shift, Charlie opens the door and sees Hugh on the other side, looking decidedly worried. The look on Charlie’s face must be nearly murderous, because Hugh almost starts stammering his explanation.

“A – a thousand apologies, Majesties, I know the earliness of the hour. There’s been a frightening development, and it concerns both of you.” Charlie invites him inside and the three of you sit at a nearby table, Charlie pulling out your chair for you to be seated. After you’re all settled, Hugh reaches into a satchel that he brought with him, producing a pamphlet of some kind.

“You know I’ve had my network combing the kingdom for further trouble,” he says. “One of my contacts was in the village of Halloran, two and a half days’ ride from here, and he saw copies of this all over the village.” You examine the paper more closely, and you wince in disgust. The language isn’t only obscene, it’s outright traitorous, not to mention the pamphlet maker has drawn a distinctly unflattering cartoon of you and Charlie in carnal embrace. In fact…you look even closer, and your eyebrows shoot up.

“Am I seeing this right? Did they draw a witch’s mark on me?”

Charlie takes the paper from you, and he sees the same. “Damnation, so they did.”

“That’s not all,” Hugh warns. “While my informant was in town, several villagers became sick, and the source couldn’t be traced. The population is getting restless, and with these posters going around…” He looks around to make sure Henry hasn’t woken up. Lowering his voice, he says, “…there’s talk starting that Her Majesty is some kind of sorceress.”

“Well that’s patently ridiculous!” Charlie says. “People being scared of change is one thing, but this is going too far.” Taking your hand, he promises, “I won’t let them stick this on you, love.”

You squeeze his hand back. “I know you won’t – but I think an investigation still has to be done.” When Charlie and Hugh look at you questioningly, you explain, “Someone or something _is_ making the villagers sick, and that can’t be allowed to go on. Anti-royal sentiment is one thing, but if someone’s directly attacking civilians, that’s too far.”

“You’re right – and I think I’m the one who has to do it,” Charlie says. “Hugh, I’ll ask that you stay here with my wife and son, but I need you to get a group of guards to come with me to Halloran. I figure if we can go and show that this is just people getting overwrought, we can calm the smallfolk before there’s further violence.”

“Very good, sire.” Hugh leaves to collect his men, and you help Charlie get dressed so that he can be on his way immediately.

“Should we wake Henry?” you ask. “He’ll wonder where you’ve gone.”

Charlie shakes his head. “Let him sleep; you can tell him what’s going on when he wakes up – I want to get this solved as soon as possible.” Pulling you into his arms, he says, “I know you still have your training, but if making a run for it is what you and Henry have to do, then run. I need the both of you to stay safe.”

“We will.” Looking up at him, you rise on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He kisses your hands and then your lips, and then he leaves.

**_July 19, 1538_ **

To your pleasant surprise, you’ve slept pretty well in the days since Charlie and his squadron left, and you wonder if this is the pregnancy exhaustion that Lucille warned you about. If it’s not that, it may be the heat that’s settled in the last week – the days are long, and while you and Henry try to stay occupied with games and reading, it’s easy for you to drift sitting in your chair in the courtyard. In fact, your dreams are getting more vivid too – it’s been several times now that you’ve imagined a little girl, no bigger than your hand, whose hair curls in the same way that Henry’s does. It’s likely just wishful thinking, but you swear you’re seeing more and more of her face each time.

You’re startled awake by Henry tapping your arm when the two of you are outside around 5 in the evening. “Mother, are you sick?” he asks. “You don’t seem like yourself.”

You smile weakly at him, wishing you could tell him the good news, but Charlie would never forgive you for not telling him first. “I’m all right, dear, I’m just getting tired easily.” Sitting up, you start to ask if he’s hungry, when you’re interrupted by Hugh shouting from the battlements.

“Majesty, there’s a large group of riders approaching from the north!” _The north?_ , you think to yourself – _that makes no sense, Halloran is to the southeast…_ As quickly as you can – which, admittedly, is not as fast as you used to be – you and Henry ascend the stairs to the wall, and Hugh hands you a looking glass.

When you peer through, the sight before you chills your blood. They’re still several miles away, but the group approaching the castle doesn’t contain a single familiar face, and most of them are heavily armed. One of them is carrying a banner – and you vaguely recognize a picture of you with the witch’s mark.

“We were tricked…” you say in the barest whisper, but Hugh realizes what you’re saying – if these are the men who spread the pamphlet, but they’re coming from the other direction, the business in the village must have been a distraction to get the King away from the castle. You’re not totally defenseless here, but you’re going to be in for a terrible fight.

What you _want_ to do is lose your previous meal all over the battlements, and that may happen later, but for right now, you need to focus. Even if the enemy force rides hard, they’ll still be at least two hours arriving at your gates, and you need to use that time to prepare.

Turning to Hugh, you say, “Take the prince to the safe room, and then bring me a change of clothes and my sword. We need to be ready.”

Henry takes Hugh’s hand, but your lieutenant leans in to whisper in your ear. “Majesty, is that wise? What about the little one?”

“It’s _because_ of her I’m fighting,” you whisper back. “I will be thrice-damned if I cower like a rabbit instead of standing for my children and my home.” You stand to your full height and fix him with your most regal expression. “That is an order, Lieutenant.”

\--

There’s been no relief from the heat even as sunset approaches, and now the enemies are close enough that you can hear the slightest pounding of their hooves. Even though it doesn’t quite fit, you appreciate Hugh giving you his breastplate to wear – a little more coverage for the baby eases your mind.

The two of you are standing at watch just inside the castle portcullis, at the head of a group of twenty soldiers. The rest of your force is spread throughout the complex, adding coverage from the top and watching the back in case of a possible ambush. Just as the sun sinks behind the trees, you hear a war horn and draw your sword. Hugh hears the signal too, and he notches an arrow in his cross bow, watching to see if the riders give away who their leader is. If the horn has blown, the other force is now in shooting range, and if you can end this quickly, it’ll be better for everyone.

Unfortunately, the men riding towards you are almost spooky in how uniform they look. Their faces are generally covered by bandannas, and every one of them is wearing the same black insignia on his chest. There’s no clear distinction of command among them; the only indicator of who might be the leader is that one rider is slightly ahead of the others. The total force appears to number about seventy, which is usually a small group when trying to take a castle, but man for man, it equals what you have.

There’s no time to waste. As soon as you finish your scan, you yell “RELEASE!” at the top of your lungs, and overhead, you hear your archers let loose a volley. Even with the light getting low, you see the majority of the arrows hit their mark, and you allow yourself a small smile when at least fifty riders fall away, either from wounds or in full-out retreat. You guess you should have known that cowards who pulled a sneak maneuver wouldn’t be terribly organized.

However, there’s a dedicated group of about twenty riders who charge on ahead, and you realize that they’re carrying a battering ram between them. The portcullis is heavy, but it’s only wood, and you know it’ll only take a few direct strikes before it starts to crack. Hugh must realize the same thing you do, because he immediately calls to the other ground troops – “Fall back!” The soldiers form a protective ring around you, and they get clear of the door before the first blow lands.

Unfortunately, your assessment was right. The portcullis groans on the first crack, and by the fifth, large splinters fly as the first riders break through. Your men have their swords drawn, but they’re all surprised to see that as the riders come through, they’re not bearing down with the same speed they had before. In fact, most of them are now trotting in an almost insolent manner into your courtyard, as if they were just returning their horses to the stable after an afternoon ride. The leader emerges from among them, and removing his bandanna, he smiles in your direction, seeming like he’s enjoying a private joke. Your eyes go wide as you recognize him – though you’d seen his face for only a second at the time, you’re dead certain the man in front of you is the same archer who attempted to assassinate Charlie on Epiphany Day.

Before he can make some inane comment, you raise your voice. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have my archers slaughter the remainder of your company!”

The man hops down from his horse, his smile never falling out of place. “And reveal yourself a coward, Majesty? Somehow, I don’t think you’ll do that. I saw you that day I went after the king – have you gone soft since enchanting him, or can you still fight?”

Your cheeks flush with anger, and you know you’re not listening to your better sense when you call back, “Are you or are you NOT making a formal challenge?” Even in your rage, though, you find you’re making calculations. The other riders are milling around and now you can see them clearly looking to this man for direction. Yes, both your ground and wall soldiers could make short work of them, but if you can kill the assassin yourself, they’ll scatter to the winds, you’re sure of it.

The man has on sturdy gloves, and he takes one off, throwing it to the ground. You let out a snort of derision – who is this man that he thinks he can challenge you in the manner of knights? That said, you’ll answer the challenge in the proper way. You signal to Hugh and the soldiers to let you through, and you stride up to this ridiculous person, stripping off your own gloves in the process. Your gloves are better quality than his are, made of proper leather, and they leave an impressive welt when you slap him across the face. “To the death,” you say simply, and you pull your sword from its scabbard.

When your blades meet, you can tell that he’s tough – he probably has you beat pound-for-pound in terms of pure strength. However, he’s slow. It might be a consequence of him being an archer, you think – if you’re not in hand to hand combat with someone, you can take your time and properly line up your shot. Unfortunately for him, this is no archery competition, and he seems to realize the trouble he’s in as you block every slash that he attempts.

His smarmy confidence begins to dissipate into rage, and he hacks harder and harder, enough that your hands are starting to ache from holding up your blade. You can’t afford to let him wear you down by exhaustion, especially when you have the baby to protect. However, you see an opening, and you go for the most straightforward option, stabbing the man between the ribs.

The courtyard has been quiet besides the ringing of blades, but now the quiet is almost choking. The assassin falls to the ground clutching his side, and as you withdraw your blade, you pass it to Hugh, who trades you for your knife that usually stays in your shoe. If circumstances were different, maybe you would say some barb about how you don’t need to be a witch to be better than your challenger, or how he’ll never threaten your family again, but in this case, you know you need to spare everyone the theatrics and just get this over with. Grabbing the man by the hair, you tilt his head back, and you slit his throat. It’s more mercy than he deserves for terrorizing your nightmares these last months, frankly.

His men get the message quickly, and they begin to clear out. Hugh respects your order when you tell him and the soldiers not to fire, but you can see in your lieutenant’s eyes that he would happily turn these enemies into target practice if they give him a reason. When you ask him later that evening what he would have done if the assassin had killed you and the baby, his response is simply, “I would have hanged, drawn and quartered them all myself, Majesty.”

**_July 20, 1538_ **

You’re woken from your sleep by Henry shaking you – “Mother, I think Papa’s back!” You sit up with a groan – even with how tired you still are, you didn’t sleep well last night. The victory was conclusive, but your head had swirled with scenarios of how everything could have gone wrong.

“Henry, are you sure?” you ask. “Even if they got to Halloran and immediately turned around, the earliest they would be back is tomorrow.”

“Just come see!” He tugs at your hand, and you follow him to the window that looks out into the countryside. Pointing slightly to the left, he says, “I know the sun’s bright, but I think that’s their banners!”

You squint – and then your heart leaps. Henry was right – you’d know the tall black-haired man in the lead saddle anywhere, and he and his guards are within a half-mile of the castle. “Henry, hurry and get dressed, I’ll do the same – we should greet your father properly.”

\--

Within ten minutes, the two of you are downstairs in the courtyard awaiting Charlie’s arrival. He and the soldiers ride in, and he barely pulls his horse to a stop before he hops down to pull you and Henry into his arms, peppering your face with kisses. “Thank God you’re all safe…”

You hug him back tightly, keeping a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “I’m just relieved you’re back – but how did you make the ride home in time?”

Charlie relaxes his grip just enough so he can look you and Henry in the eyes. “We never made it to Halloran. Our contact rode out to meet us about five miles outside the village limits, and he told us that the pamphlet maker had departed suddenly into the woods with about seventy men. We figured it must be a trick, and we rode back here as fast as we could.” He looks around in relief at the lack of damage besides the busted portcullis. “To be quite honest, I was afraid I would find a massacre if we didn’t get here soon enough.”

“No massacre,” you promise. “Hugh can verify it for me, but to my knowledge, we didn't lose a single man last night, and we’ll deal later with whatever enemies are left. I think, though…” and as you say this next part, you hope you’re right. “I think the spirit of the rebels has been crushed. I dueled their leader personally, and when I killed him, the others scattered like frightened rabbits.”

Charlie’s hand moves from your waist to your chin, and he kisses you tenderly. “I just wish you hadn’t had to take him on alone, my brave girl.”

You return the kiss, and for the first time in several days, you properly smile. “I wasn’t alone. I had another brave girl with me.”

Charlie doesn’t initially realize what you’re saying. “Another? My love, I don’t follow – did you have one of the former Ladies-at-Arms as your second?”

You shake your head, your smile growing even wider. “No, it’s simpler than that.” You take his hand and place it on your stomach. “I’m with child and I think…I think we’re having a girl. She kept me brave.”

To his credit, Charlie doesn’t faint in front of his men, but when you, he and Henry return to your suite of rooms, nothing else productive gets done for the day. Charlie is a whirlwind of emotions, both tearful and joyous, Henry is nearly bouncing off the ceiling in excitement at having a little sister – and you? If you could bottle the rest of that day, you would.


End file.
